Switchback Ch19 pt2

Carter had watched three people leave the lodge and climb into the two Cherokees. The fat guy in the check shirt he now knew as Stu Malvern and was the second officer Spooner had brought up with him from Putnam. The other guy, and dressed very similar, that would be Josh Spooner, but good-old Abe had a hat on, so Carter didn’t get a look at his face. But why would he want to know who turned up at the judge’s house? Was it in case he brought someone in to investigate the shootings on his behalf? If it was, then Spooner had missed that particular boat by half a day.

          He made a coffee from a sachet that said it contained ground Arabica beans, and to Carter it tasted every bit as good as Frankie’s Espresso. He drank the coffee by the window and decided to pass some more of the time until Spooner got back by going through the photographs Ryland had given him.

          He took them from the envelope and spread them out on the bed. The first showed the left side and back of a firefighter in a yellow PVC jacket, his helmet beside the knee he knelt on as he attended to Cunningham who was slouched against the front wall of the house. The name on the helmet was very clear, “MEAD”. Most of Cunningham was obscured by the man, just his right shoulder and the right side of his head was visible, along with a bloody ear. The next was taken from a lower angle, and Ryland had moved to his left slightly. Cunningham’s eyes were closed and the blood over his ear had seeped from a gash above his right eye. The gash was five inches long and looked to have been caused by something slim but heavy, maybe a tire-iron, but nothing wider than that.

          The third photograph was almost a copy of the second, except Mead’s blurred hand was sweeping across the shot, his face creased in a meaningful scowl. Photo four was a shot looking up the staircase inside the house, the flash of the camera was visible on every surface that Cunningham had touched with his bloodied hands. The fifth was an opposite view, from top to bottom. The landing shot was next and showed little more than a trail of blood leading to the bedroom on the right.

          Carter heard a car come onto the lot below, he checked but it wasn’t Spooner, it was a blue Honda and the driver had parked it next to his car. He returned to the photographs.

          Photograph seven was taken from across the landing and showed a half-open door with some lettering which Carter couldn’t read because of the angle. An orange glow could be seen through the window of the room and below it a woman was on her knees, her head bowed. Blood had been smudge over the open edge of the door and also on and around the doorknob, and down at the bottom of the photograph, a right leg and hand could be seen.

          Shot eight was the first one taken from inside the room, the first “Big-money-shot” you might say, though Ryland could neither sell nor print any of them in his paper. Could it be morbid curiosity? Or was it something more sinister? There were online forums for all kinds of illegal shit these days, and there was probably one where members exchanged this kind of material.

          Mrs Ferris was on her knees slumped under the window; her head was tilted toward the wound to her stomach. Her arms lay on either side of her. Her right hand was palm-up, her left was closed in a fist.

          Again Carter he heard a car and this time it was Spooner’s Cherokee. He’d parked it more or less where it had been earlier and climbed out. He had an envelope in one hand and was putting his hat on a bald head with the other. He then reached in to the passenger seat for a brown paper bag, the kind you get your groceries in, after that he closed the door and entered the lodge.

          Carter returned again to the bed to see shot nine had been taken from the centre of the room; it showed the deputy behind the door. His head trapped into the corner with a small black dot over his right eye and a thin trail of red flowing from it.

          The final photograph was of Mr Ferris; he was sitting on the floor with his back against a large mirror, his legs straight out and parted. A single shot to his head, almost dead-centre, and another to his stomach. Ryland had caught himself in this shot, or rather a reflection of his reflection from the mirror behind. He’d obviously tried to stay out of shot but hadn’t quite managed it. It showed the rear view of half of him with an elbow stuck out.

          He put the photographs back inside the envelope and took out the IAPP card Ryland had made for him, and when he heard the door to room one open and close he checked his watch. Ruby May Debreu -Cunningham’s switch worker- doesn’t start work until ten o’clock, which gave him around three hours to kill. More than enough time to unpack and take a shower and then go see Dennis Mead.